


argentum (m. osamu)

by memento_amare



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Romantic Fluff, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26913508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memento_amare/pseuds/memento_amare
Summary: his is the color silver.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader
Kudos: 47





	argentum (m. osamu)

“you awake?”

no response.

“i know you are.” the clock ticks to 11:59. 

the mattress creaks as you shift, rolling over to straddle your boyfriend. just as you thought, osamu’s eyes flicker open immediately.

grinning, you bend down, pressing your lips against his. osamu’s hands come up by instinct, resting themselves on your hips. your hands wander, trailing up his shoulders and down his chest. 

right before he begins to deepen it though, you pull away. _11:59:59, october 5._

“happy birthday, ‘samu, ’m glad i got to greet you last.” 

the second hand ticks. _00:00, october 6._

he clicks his tongue, but the smile pulling up his lips is hard to hold back. “idiot, what if i was asleep?”

“i know you weren’t, and i’m pretty sure you wouldn’t mind either way.” his eyebrow quirks upward, amused but also endeared.

“hm. yer right.”

he sits up and you yelp, beginning to lose balance, but his hands, already on your hips, keep you steady. he presses his lips to yours again, setting the pace this time: slow, languid, yet surprisingly intense. in the moonlight that streams through your window, his eyes shine like sterling.

his is the color silver—a coolness that enchants like starlight. silver finds home in industry. it is ubiquitous yet overlooked, a quiet worker that seeks solace in bringing comfort and function. the world goes on, unknowing to the quiet and humble work that keeps it beating.

the very names we call our currencies are derived from silver, after all.

(he shines: calm, steady, constant.)

his breath is warm as it ghosts against your ear. “so yer gonna greet me last?” it’s teasing, of course—he knows why you do it. it’s a silent promise, you told him once, a declaration that more than the first, you intend to be his last.

“being first is overrated,” he chuckles at that. pulling you close, osamu presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“i agree.”

(perhaps one day, he’ll tell you how you are his solace, the force and reason of his enchantment. he’ll tell you how you spin words and affection into silver thread, a constant lining of starlight even in the darkest nights.)


End file.
